


That Which Is Accessible

by constellationqueen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, after he learns that he's part galra, it's just keith talking to lance, the conversation we didn't see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationqueen/pseuds/constellationqueen
Summary: Lance won't let Keith be alone after Keith tells the team about his Galra heritage.





	

The room, which was abuzz with news and talking and vying to be heard only moments ago, is now completely silent. The two new Galra that Shiro and Keith brought with them from the base are standing off to the side, arms folded. Only one of them took off their mask, and his face is completely blank as he carefully stares at no one. Everyone else is staring at Keith.

Keith, who just told everyone that he is part Galra – how large of a part, he doesn’t seem to know – is staring back. Staring at everyone, it seems, but the Galra. Lance looks away from Keith in order to look at everyone else. Shiro is braced, though for what, Lance doesn’t know. Coran and Pidge and Hunk have odd expressions on their faces that Lance can’t begin to break down. Allura is the only one with a clear, easy-to-read expression.

Lance’s eyes flick back to Keith in time to see the red paladin shut down completely. “Right,” he says, the word bitter as it comes off of his tongue. Keith leaves the room, and no one moves. Unsure of himself and what exactly he should do – or even _could_ do – Lance looks to Shiro.

Shiro nods, and Lance turns to follow Keith. He’s only seconds behind Keith in the scope of things, but the hallway is empty. Cursing his luck and the people he left behind in the room and the black-haired boy he’s chasing, Lance picks up a jog and heads toward the most likely destination that Keith would go to.

The hallways are empty and cold, and the soles of Lance’s boots make too much noise against the floor. But he spots the red paladin where he thought he might.

“Keith!” Lance calls, maintaining his jog until he’s close enough to see more than just some colors and a form. “Why’d you run off?” Lance slows to a walk and then stops a few paces away.

Keith’s shoulders are tight and his head is down, but the door to his bedroom is closed and his hands are at his sides. They’re clenched, but they’re making no moves to open the door and get away from Lance. Though, Lance supposes, the doors are more likely to open with a thought than with a touch. “Go away, Lance. I just… want to be alone.”

The tension in Keith’s body backs up his words. Maybe he really does want to be alone. Maybe he needs time to swallow the truth. He’s not sure how poisonous that truth is going to be for Keith. “I think some company would do you good,” Lance says. His mother would smile at him for saying that, for not letting someone be alone when it’s obvious that what they really needed was someone to care. Most days, Lance misses home with an ache that never leaves his chest. But moments like these make him realize that he carries his family with him wherever he goes.

“Lance… please….” The pleading in Keith’s voice is raw and in the open. But if Keith is left alone, his feeling of isolation and perhaps even his self-hatred will fester like jungle rot and kill him from the inside out.

“No can do, buddy.” Lance approaches Keith at a casual pace, but when he sees Keith’s still-tight shoulders and lean body braced to get the hell away at the first sign of trouble, Lance ends up propping himself against the wall instead of touching the other paladin. The white metal is cool even through the sleeve of his jacket. The castle often adjusts to its inhabitors, and Lance wonders if the hallways are so cold because of the tension in the air.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Keith’s words are quiet, but with the emotion behind them, the impact they have on Lance is louder than if Keith had shouted.

Lance blanches for a moment, knocked off-guard by the honesty and vulnerability in Keith’s voice. “Do you want me to hate you?”

It’s Keith’s turn to react, body turning, even if just a little, towards Lance as his gaze sharpens and his eyes widen. “What? N-no. I just… Allura hates me now. I figured everyone else would, too.”

Oh.

“Keith?” Lance takes the step that puts him into Keith’s space, and he reaches out a hand to cup Keith’s cheek and turn his head. Those dark eyes, often so full of fire, are miserable. Lance channels his aunt into his smile, making it warm and understanding, comforting and supportive. He watches the emotions war for dominance on Keith’s face – the vulnerability in his eyes, the hesitancy in the way his eyebrows furrow, the anger in the press of his lips. “Sometimes you’re really stupid.”

Keith looks between Lance’s eyes with a quick repetitive flickering of his own, and he must find what he needs there, because his body sags in what looks like defeat. His shoulders slump, his arms hang limp, hands loosen out of fists, and he dips his head and leans forward to rest his forehead against Lance’s. “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes closing and throat working as he swallows. “I know it’s… stupid. I know it doesn’t matter, where I come from. I’m still me, I’m still…. This doesn’t change anything. I just….” Keith sighs. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that from Allura.”

Lance hums and pulls Keith all the way into a hug, his fingers threading through the thick black hair at the base of Keith’s skull. Keith’s arms wrap loosely around Lance’s waist, and he tucks his face into Lance’s shoulder. Lance knows that this isn’t the first rejection Keith has ever encountered, but he knows it matters more because Allura has become part of their tightknit family. And raw hatred is so much worse than regular rejection, anyway.

“Will you stay?” Keith asks, his breath warm where it moves against Lance’s neck.

“Oh, you want me to stay now? I thought you were intent on being alone.”

“Well if you’re going to be a dick about it, you can get lost.”

Lance laughs, bending his head to kiss the side of Keith’s neck. Keith shivers, and the door to his bedroom opens a moment before he pulls back. But as he steps away, he snags Lance’s hand and guides him into the room. The door closes and they are alone, separated from the cold ship and the rest of the team and the two new Galra allies.

Keith sits heavily at the edge of his bed and bends to untie his boots. He pulls them off and tosses them towards the door. His jacket comes next, red and white leather leaving his shoulders and exposing the black shirt beneath. Lance’s boots, never laced up so tight, come off with a simple kick. One of them lands upright, but the other topples to its side. “True grace,” Keith says, his lips twitching. Lance rolls his eyes and drops his jacket over the back of the chair.

Although he’s already on the bed, Keith waits for Lance to lie down first before he joins him. Even though Keith turns his back to the room in order to face Lance, he refuses to be near the wall. When Lance asked him about it the first time, Keith’s response had been a tired and mumbled, “You’re too slow to grab a weapon and too big for me to crawl over.” So Lance took the inside, and Keith and his paranoia took the outside.

“What are you thinking about?” Keith asks, and Lance realizes that he’s been staring.

Lance rolls onto his back and draws Keith closer. With an ease that comes with a repetition of movements, Keith rests his head on Lance’s chest, tucks his arm under Lance’s, and hooks his leg over the closest of Lance’s legs. Lance, in turn, threads his fingers through Keith’s hair. “You. Us. How much my mother would love to cook you a huge, fattening meal.”

“What about you?” Keith asks. “Can you cook?”

Lance snorts. “Not as well as Hunk, but my mom and my _abuela_ made sure that even us boys can cook for ourselves. Do you think they knew? That we would either have to fend for ourselves or end up with someone who doesn’t know the difference between brown rice and white rice except for their color?”

Keith shoves at Lance’s stomach, and Lance laughs, fingers tugging playfully on Keith’s hair. “I know. It’s not your fault you ran away from the Garrison and lived in a hut in the middle of the desert away from civilization and a basic knowledge of food… oh, wait.” Keith raises himself up on his elbow, and the motion pulls him further up Lance’s body, resulting in Keith looming over Lance as if he was the taller of them. “What?” Lance asks, innocent until proven guilty.

“You never know when to quit,” Keith says, and though his mouth his serious, his eyes are affectionate.

“I’m a paladin. I don’t know how to quit.”

Keith’s hum is soft, perfectly accompanying the way his eyes move down to Lance’s mouth and then flick back up to meet Lance’s gaze. Lance nods, and Keith closes the distance.

The kiss is soft, more reassuring than anything else. Lance’s hand, still tangled in Keith’s hair, tightens minutely, betraying his desire to keep Keith as close as possible. But Keith doesn’t rush. His lips are a little chapped, and there’s a cut in the corner that Lance thinks must sting. Keith sighs softly against Lance’s lips, and Lance follows the sound with a quiet noise of his own.

After a few more presses of their lips, Keith settles back down, draped against Lance’s side. Lance knows when Keith falls asleep because of the change in his breathing and the last of the tension leaving his body. And, after kissing the top of Keith’s head, Lance decides that sleeping sounds like a great idea.


End file.
